


i hope you think of me

by sdicapriox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Lily Evans Fanfiction, Lily Evans Imagine, harry potter fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27963599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdicapriox/pseuds/sdicapriox
Summary: IN WHICH. you fell in love with the girl you grew up with, as she falls for james.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lily Evans x Female Reader, Lily Evans x James Potter, Lily Evans x Y/N, Lily Evans/Reader, lily evans x reader
Kudos: 11





	i hope you think of me

It was a dreadful thing—watching her drift away from you slowly. Closer and closer to him. Even more so, that you couldn’t do a thing. 

You could see how she looked at him. Like he was all she ever needed. 

She was so damn happy, and you didn’t want to take that away from her. She deserved to be,

You just wished that you could be the one who made her happy. The one to make her laugh when she was sad, turning her bad days around. 

It had been months. Years even. Yet you could still remember when you fell for her—and when she fell for him. How she’d stay up all night, telling you about the boy she used to claim was a complete idiot. The one she loved.

You could only hope that she’d think of you, once in a while, and remember the times you spent together. 

That maybe, when she’d think happiness, she’d think of your head on her chest, sleeping the day away. ‘Just friends,’ you’d both claim. 

Or the Black dress she’d always compliment. 

‘Beautiful’ she’d say. Not even noticing the smile that spread across your face. 

You’d even remember that book under your bed, filled with everything you never said. The one that started with shitty poems and unfinished love letters. 

Or the old polaroid on your wall, a muggle one of course. It didn’t move—but you could practically hear her contagious laugh ringing through your ears. 

It was bittersweet to look back. If only you told her, perhaps you’d be together forever. 

But you missed your chances, every single one of them. 

If only you told her when you knew, back in third year. Maybe you’d be happy too. 

But you were anything but that as you sat in the armchair by the fire. The white invitation swirling in your hands. 

They were getting married, in June. You could hardly focus as your eyes scanned the details quickly, suddenly every memory and every moment blurring together. 

Perhaps in anger, or sheer spite, you fed the invitation to the flame—watching as the white card wilted into ash, the neat cursive disappearing. 

Maybe you’d be together forever.


End file.
